Years passed without word of Jack. Years that saw even the fictionalised tales of the Kamon forgotten by most. The fishermen remembered - but then the fishermen had more reason to. Lord Charles Montgomery remembered - but nobody who heard his tale ever believed him, and he learnt to keep quiet about the beast, and about the man he thought had conjured it. Nobody else seemed to care, and even the drunks in the taverns and the most ancient of sailors - lovers of all the tallest tales - talked of the beast no more. It was a long, long time since Jack's name had been spoken within my hearing, even by Anne and Celeste. I told myself that I didn't remember him; not his smile, not the shine of his eyes, nor the strange fashion of his speech. I told myself that I didn't care; that it meant nothing to me that he had failed to return. I told myself that if he had died in that last battle against the Kamon that I didn't mourn him - that if he had escaped, and left for other shores, that it was nothing to me. And I returned to my life on the seas, chasing rich vessels, rich cargoes; running the gauntlet of the ships sent to capture mine. Jack was long gone; long forgotten - or so I liked to tell myself. The truth of course was that I could never forget, no matter the passing of the years. I could never forget that man, and the things that I saw in his company. And I know now that I never stopped waiting for the day when he might return.
"Computer?" It had taken a long time for Jack's vision to clear, and rather longer before he had felt at all confident about finding his voice. Speech wasn't easy when you couldn't entirely remember where your mouth was. "Computer?"
"I am functioning." It was hardly the reassuring voice of a nurse, or the kind tones of a concerned friend, but to Jack it was the greatest voice in the world. He managed a weak grin.
"Thought I'd lost you for a minute. You okay?"
"I am functioning." A brief pause. "My systems appear undamaged. The ship, however--"
"Is pretty much shot to hell, yeah." Very slowly Jack began moving his limbs, testing to see what was what. The alarming glow that had made him think upon waking that his eyes were on fire had finally resolved itself into clouds of nanogenes, so he was inclined to think that he was probably unharmed. If he had been hurt, the tiny little healers would have fixed him by now. Certainly he could move his arms and legs without any major discomfort. "What happened?"
"There was a massive explosion," she told him. He nodded his head, and struggled to a sitting position.
"Yeah. Gotcha. The explosion I remember. Did we kill the Kamon?"
"Insufficient data. However the alien creature was inside its vessel when the explosion occurred. Probability of survival was zero point two percent."
"Then I guess we call it dead." He stared around at the ship. Everything looked to be in the right place, but there were a lot of sparks fizzing around the control station. Given the condition that the ship had been in prior to the explosion, it seemed highly unlikely that it was anywhere near flight-worthy now. "Give me a damage report, computer. How long till everything is fixed?"
"All main ship's systems have suffered damage. Auto-repair is in progress. Estimate completion of repairs in three days."
"Three days?" He groaned. Three days stuck in 1735, in the middle of the Caribbean. And to make matters worse, he had told Josiah to set sail. How was he supposed to catch up with the Dragon now that his own craft was out of commission? "Terrific. What am I suppose to do for three days?"
"I am programmed with a number of popular texts," offered the computer. "Both fiction and non-fiction are available for reading."
"I know. And for an hour or two in the evening, that's great." Jack stood up, wobbled, and managed to pat the nearest console in a friendly fashion. "But for three entire days, it's pushing it just a little, thanks anyway. For now I think I might take a walk. How long until you can make the ship invisible?"
"Do you wish invisibility to be a priority?"
"I don't know. I can probably find a way to hide you both." He stared out of the viewscreen at the rocky beach onto which they appeared to have crashed. "Looks like there's a lot of seaweed out there, and that'll help. But three days is a long time, and a ship like this is a hell of an anachronism in 1735. Yeah. You better make invisibility a priority."
"Affirmative." There was a bleep from one of the consoles. "Information corrected. Estimate of date is in error."
"Date?" He frowned. "Joe seemed pretty sure, computer. You can't expect the natives to get something like that wrong."
Another bleep answered him. "Information corrected. Kamon terminated in 1735, local era. Date now..." There was a pause, and a chattering of circuits. "1750, local era. Explosion of alien vessel, and malfunctioning of this ship, combined to create a time warp. Suggest that explosions during malfunction are best avoided."
"You don't say." Jack sat down in the pilot's seat, and whistled. "That's two time warps in two days, computer. Are you sure?"
"My function is to guide this time vessel. I am not capable of error in matters relating to the calculation of our position." She almost sounded offended. Only half paying attention, he reached out and patted the console again.
"Sure. Sorry, computer. Looks like we really want to be careful when we've got battle damage, huh. Are further time warps likely?"
"Probability of encountering further time warps, zero point six percent. Probability of encountering further time warps resulting from large explosions... unable to calculate. Insufficient data. Once repair is complete, there should no longer be any risk."
"Good. So if I go for a walk, you won't get zapped another fifteen years into the future while I'm gone, right? Provided nothing explodes, I mean."
"Affirmative."
"Thanks." He rubbed his head. "Okay, I'm going to hide the ship as best I can, then head..." North? South? East? West? He didn't have a clue. "Computer, where are we in relation to our last fixed position? The place where we teleported the two native humans off the ship?"
"We are three point two kilometres due north of that position."
"Okay. Then I'll be heading south. Nobody is likely to recognise me after all this time, and I fancy a drink. Can you still contact me through my wrist computer?"
"Affirmative. Suggest that Captain Jack Harkness remain within ten mile radius of present position. Communications at less than five percent efficiency."
"Okay. Thanks. I'll call in later for an update."
"Affirmative." She sounded almost as though she was glad to be getting rid of him, which he could sympathise with. If it hadn't been for him interfering before, and dragging the ship off on his little crusade against the Kamon, everything would have been well on its way to being fixed by now. He stretched uncertainly, still a little stiff in places, then headed for the hatch.
"So long, computer."
"Bon voyage, Captain Jack." It was one of the phrases that he had added to her databanks himself, and it always amused him when she used it. He grinned, and was still grinning when he swung out of the ship, and down onto the sand and rock of the beach. She was an awkward travelling companion at times, but whoever said that an emotionless chunk of circuitry and motherboards couldn't be fun to have around? She was better company than a lot of his former colleagues in the Time Agency had ever been.
It was a long and difficult task to cover the ship with seaweed. Great long fronds of the stuff, and big, heavy clumps, all dragged from damp rocks, or fetched from the furthest corners of the cove. By the time he had finished the ship was largely hidden, at least from a distance, and was camouflaged reasonably well even at close quarters. Jack, however, was hot, sticky and smelt of brine and seaweed. He scowled at his salty hands, then waded out into the surf until the water was splashing around his knees, and washed himself off as best he could. It did little to get rid of the salt, and his hair still felt like he was wearing too much gel, but he smelt a little less like something washed up on the beach. Cheered by the rudimentary splashing, he headed up the beach, and turned off towards the south. The weather was beautiful, the view out to sea more than pleasing, and the air was filled with birdsong. He couldn't help but feel cheerful, even if he was to be stuck here for three days. If the weather held, three days wouldn't be so bad. He would be comfortable enough even if he stayed on the beach, and he had more than enough stores to last him several times that period if necessary. Spirits lifting all the while, he broke into a merry whistle - some sea shanty, he thought, that he had heard at the Shark's Tooth Inn. Fifteen years ago now, he supposed. That could be a long, long time in the life of a tiny colony in the back of beyond.
He had been walking for about half an hour when he heard voices ahead of him. He slowed to a halt then, wondering what was best. Should he hide, to see who was coming? Walk straight on, and act like any native? He was still dressed in the clothes that he had borrowed from Josiah, so unless the fashions had changed radically in the last fifteen years, he should pass muster as one of the locals. Admittedly he looked a trifle bedraggled, but from what he had seen of the eighteenth century, there were not many people who looked especially pristine. Coming to a decision, he squared his shoulders, quickened his step, and carried on walking. Look confident, and there was less chance of being challenged. Hide like a fugitive and risk discovery, and things were immediately much more complicated. Unconsciously he whistled a little louder, and tried not to flinch when he realised that the oncoming people were soldiers. A group of five or six of them, walking in a ragged column, and entirely failing to march in any kind of unison. He swallowed his initial concern. Fifteen years - what were the chances that these soldiers were the ones he had met then? What were the chances of them recognising him? How likely was it that anybody would give a damn now anyway? The Governor might have sentenced him to hang, but nobody would care about that now. It wasn't as if his photograph was posted on the local information net.
"Morning." The soldier at the head of the column nodded to Jack in passing, and flashed him a scrappy salute. Jack nodded smartly back, but refrained from returning the salute. His military side was always lurking beneath the surface, but he didn't want to show it here. Here he wasn't a soldier. He was just a man out for a walk on a pleasant, sunny morning, heading nowhere in any particular hurry. He smiled indirectly at the marching men, and continued on his way. There was no reason for them to challenge him. He wasn't breaking any laws. He hadn't done anything wrong. He started to whistle again, and turned to look out to sea.
"Excuse me?" The man at the back of the column was calling out to him. Jack slowed to a halt.
"Yeah?" He only half looked back. He didn't want to get dragged into a conversation with these people. His speech marked him out as being different. He didn't want to talk to soldiers or any other kind of official. He just wanted to pass unnoticed as much as he could.
"I just wanted a word." The soldier was breaking ranks, turning to speak to him properly. The man at the head of the column called back to him.
"Problem, McDougal?"
"Not sure, sergeant." The soldier was eyeing Jack with a frown that the time traveller didn't like one little bit. The sergeant slowed, bringing the column to an uneven halt.
"Not sure? We have work to do, McDougal. This isn't the time for distractions. Let this man go on his way."
"Thankyou, sergeant." Jack gave the man another nod, and turned back to continue his walk. He was stopped by a sharp shout. McDougal again. Jack was starting to dislike the man a great deal.
"Wait a moment, sir. Please."
"What is it?" He used just the right amount of irritation. He was just an ordinary man, being held up for no good reason. He was being polite, but impatient. It was convincing enough, he was sure. Jack was a good actor. It was one of the things that made him a good con-man. McDougal, however, was obviously not in the mood to be dissuaded. He was walking towards Jack, and one hand was on the pistol in his belt. Jack's right hand twitched reflexively, but his laser pistol was back on board his ship, and he had no other weapons. He forced the smile back onto his face, and did his best to look innocent.
"McDougal! You'd better have a good explanation for this!" The sergeant was coming towards them, and the rest of the men were coming with him. Jack's muscles tensed, though there was horribly little that he could do if this came to a fight. They were all armed, and he had nothing but his wits. He was outnumbered, and as the soldiers fanned out into a rough semi circle around him, he was left with nowhere to run save over the edge of a discouragingly high cliff. He kept up his innocent smile, but his pulse was beginning to race.
"I'm sorry to hold things up, sergeant." McDougal had instinctively jumped to a sort of attention, like a man making an official report. "It's just that I couldn't help noticing a few things, sir. That's all."
"Such as?" The sergeant didn't look as though he appreciated being delayed. Jack sympathised.
"Such as the state of him. Looks like he's been swimming in his clothes, doesn't he."
"What a man chooses to do with his time is nothing to do with us, McDougal. Swimming in your clothes isn't against the law."
"No, sergeant. But that does depend on where he's been swimming, doesn't it. Look at him. His clothes are a mess, but they're expensive. That's nice material. And look at that scarf around his neck. My father was a tailor, and I know silk when I see it. Who goes swimming in a silk scarf?"
"That's an interesting question." The sergeant folded his arms and stared pointedly at Jack. "Well?"
"I was walking along the rocks and I slipped." Jack offered the sergeant one of his best smiles. "Looking for shellfish. Felt like a fool, and I'm glad there was nobody to see. So can I go now? I'd like to wash off some of this salt."
"Slipped, you say?" McDougal was like a dog on a scent, determined not to give up. Jack would cheerfully have punched him right in his overactive mouth, if he had thought he could do so and walk away. "You didn't jump into the sea while you were escaping, maybe? Say from a ship out in the harbour?"
"McDougal..." The sergeant was beginning to look testy. McDougal, however, was not to be silenced. With a sudden, sharp movement, he caught hold of one of Jack's arms, and held it up.
"Look at this, sergeant. Maybe he did slip into the sea. Maybe he does have a good reason for going swimming with his clothes on. But can you think of a good reason why an innocent man would be wearing handcuffs?" He jerked the pinioned arm towards the sergeant, so that the loose, damp sleeve fell back to reveal the cuff still fastened around Jack's wrist. Inwardly Jack winced. Outwardly he managed a smile that was remarkably blithe.
"Handcuffs? These are all the rage in New York just now. Everybody wears them."
"Do they." The sergeant was clearly not convinced. Jack didn't blame him - it was one of the lamest excuses he had ever come up with. He smiled uncertainly.
"I know what this looks like..."
"It looks like you were put in manacles, and then found a way to break the chain." With sudden violence, the sergeant grabbed Jack's other wrist and twisted it up. "Shot it apart, by the look of it. Do you want to try explaining how that happened? How does an ordinary, law abiding man get put in manacles? You weren't freed, or they'd have been taken off properly. You wouldn't have had to shoot them off." He smiled suddenly, an ugly gleam in his eyes. "Good work, McDougal. There'll be a bonus in this for you."
"Thankyou sergeant." The soldier drew his pistol now, and pointed it meaningfully at Jack. "Just doing my job."
"Yeah. Great." Jack reconsidered the possible escape route offered by the cliff edge, but had to dismiss it. The sea did not quite reach the bottom of the cliff, and he had no chance of diving into the water and making any kind of a getaway - save one that was permanent in a manner that he really didn't fancy at all. "Nice work, soldier. I appreciate it."
"I'm sure you do." The sergeant's tone was dry. "At the double now, men. Our orders can wait for the time being. It seems that we have a prisoner to deliver to the town."
"I don't suppose you'd believe that this is all just a giant misunderstanding?" Jack's eyes drifted along the line of men, and saw no hint of a thaw. "No, didn't think so."
"Get moving." The overly enthusiastic McDougal gestured with his gun, pressuring Jack to fall in. He liked to think that the computer would have heard his plight over his wrist communicator, and come to his rescue with lasers blazing - except that the laser cannon wasn't working, and neither was the ship. Even if the computer had been inclined to help, there wasn't anything she could do. Given a hefty shove by a nameless soldier clearly sore that he had not been observant enough to win a bonus himself, Jack had no choice but to go where he was directed. There were six pistols pointed at him, and six pairs of eyes watching his every movement. Angry and helpless, there was little at all that he could do.
The gaol looked just as it had when he had left it, though the town around it had grown somewhat. A few new houses had appeared here and there, and others had been shored up and tidied. The harbour was a little bigger, the market beside it a little larger - but on the whole the town was easily recognisable as the one he had visited fifteen years before. Jack was ushered through the streets much as he had been the last time - just a few hours ago, by his reckoning - and into the stone building that seemed so familiar. He wondered if he would get the same cell, and then wondered what day it was. Hadn't they talked about Tuesdays being the usual day for hangings? If justice was as summary now as it had been then, he could find himself stretching his neck at sundown, with little or no chance of escape. His laser gun would have been useless even if he hadn't left it on the ship, since he had drained its power pack escaping the first time, and he didn't have Josiah and Anne ready to come dashing to his rescue now. Some day he was going to have to look for a different profession. Not that he actually had a profession, technically, but whatever the hell it was that he was doing now, it wasn't proving to be conducive to good health.
"Over here." The sergeant pushed him over to a brassiere, where flames flickered with annoying good cheer. A sweaty faced man whom Jack recognised as the very same individual who had fixed his manacles the first time, glowered at the broken chain, and then glowered even more fiercely at Jack. Apparently it was an act of great vandalism to break official manacles. Jack smiled his usual smile, and trusted in fifteen years worth of miscreants and offenders to have wiped all memory of him from the grumpy smith's mind. Certainly there was no glimmer of recognition in the gleaming face.
"Escapee?" he asked the sergeant. His answer was a shrug.
"I'm guessing so. Escaped from somewhere, certainly."
"Not somewhere. Here." The gaoler peered at Jack, face still a blank. "These are my chains, but I don't remember putting them on him." He pointed an impressively thick finger at Jack. "When did you get them?"
"They were a gift from a friend." Jack's smile didn't waver, but it felt as though it wanted to shatter into a thousand pieces. The gaoler just glared.
"The governor will want to see him. Don't get many people escaping from custody. He'll want a show trial, and a hanging with the whole town turned out to watch."
"Do you think so?" McDougal looked delighted, clearly hoping that there might be a promotion in it for him, as well as just a bonus. The sergeant nodded.
"Oh, Lord Charles will want to make a big deal out of it alright. The next hanging day is going to be a big one anyway, and this will only make it bigger. There'll be quite a party made out of it, I would think. Probably be selling souvenirs in the town square."
"It's always nice to be the centre of attention." Jack tried not to sound too sarcastic. "I always like to be a big... Hang on. Lord Charles? The Governor in the big white house with the fancy gardens? That Lord Charles?"
"There is only one Lord Charles in these parts." The sergeant frowned at him. "You know the Governor?"
"We... met once. A long time ago." Brilliant. Of all the people Jack had met in this place, Lord Charles was one of those most likely to recognise him fifteen years on - and the one who was going to be least happy to see him. The Governor had already accused him of witchcraft, and when he saw that he hadn't aged in the slightest since 1735, his opinion was hardly going to be changed. He couldn't be taken before the Governor. It would be an absolute disaster.
"Well, then I'm sure that Lord Charles will be delighted to see you again." The sergeant sounded pleased with himself. Jack's smile finally wavered. Delighted? Only in the sense that he would finally be getting the chance to hang a man he loathed. Maybe he would get lucky - maybe Lord Charles wouldn't recognise him. It had been fifteen years, after all... Somehow, though, he just couldn't believe that he would be that lucky. Where was a gallant pirate captain when you needed one?
"I don't suppose you'd take a bribe?" he asked the gaoler. The other man eyed him with distaste.
"Do you have anything that there's any chance I'd want?"
"Honestly?" Since Jack had nothing save himself to give, quite clearly this was going to go no further. "No."
"Then hold your wrists out, keep still, and shut up." The gaoler struck off the broken manacles and tossed them to one side, then fixed a new set into place. "They suit you."
"You're very kind." Jack flashed him a sharply acid smile that could have cut through concrete, then felt himself almost tugged off his feet by the ever enthusiastic McDougal, eager to lock him behind one of the solid iron doors. He found himself in discouragingly familiar surroundings, then, though it wasn't the same cell as before. A tiny barred window, straw beneath his feet, cold stone and dingy half light. Lovely.
"I do hope that you'll be comfortable." The sergeant was rapidly rising to rival McDougal's position at the top of Jack's Least Favourite People Of 1750 List. He smirked at Jack now from the doorway, then slammed the door shut and locked it. Just as before it was a featureless barrier, with no window, and no lock on the inside. The perfect prison door, as effective as anything from the dungeons of the future. More so, perhaps. In Jack's experience, primitive prisons were much harder to escape from, as there were far less opportunities to turn their own technologies against them. He scowled, kicked hard at the straw, then leant against the wall and folded his arms. It was a good position in which to sulk, traditionally, but the cold, damp wall soon discouraged him.
"Computer?" Thank goodness, at least, for his ever functioning wrist computer. It provided him with the means to stay in touch with the computer on board his ship, as well as performing any number of other functions that were largely useless to him now. "Computer?"
"Greetings, Captain Jack Harkness." She sounded just the same as ever. "Do you wish for an update on the auto-repairs?"
"You haven't suddenly repaired the teleport, I suppose?"
"At current rate of progress, teleport will be functional within thirty-six hours."
"And how long after that until I can use it?"
"Teleport not recommended for transport of organic life forms for forty-three hours." There was a pause. "Suggest walking instead."
"Thanks computer. That's a great idea." He pushed the button to break contact, then scowled even more fiercely than before, and kicked the straw again. It was just as dissatisfying this time as it had been the last time, though he tried kicking it again, just in case. "Damn it!"
"Be careful of your language. There are ladies present who may be able to hear you." The voice seemed to come from outside, but when Jack, filled with sudden hope, pulled himself up to look through the window, he could see nobody there. He frowned.
"Hello? Who's that?"
"Name's Barlowe." There was a scratching noise, then a small movement caught Jack's eye. Over to his left, another man was hauling himself up to peer out of his cell window. It was almost impossible to see each other properly, but Jack caught a glimpse of a weathered, sun-tanned face before the other man dropped back out of sight once again.
"Pleased to meet you, Barlowe." Jack also lowered himself down. "What are you in for?"
"I was arrested for piracy. Most of us were. Yourself?"
"It's complicated. I think it was escaping from custody."
"You escaped?" Barlowe sounded impressed. "From here? When?"
"Here, yeah. Fifteen years ago, I guess." Jack considered kicking the straw again, in a sudden flash of irritation at his predicament, but reined in his temper. "I was arrested that time for causing a riot. I think. They were a little vague about the charges."
"Fifteen years on the run!" Barlowe laughed. "It's bad luck that you were captured again, my friend. By the sound of you, you must have been little more than a child fifteen years ago. A child escaping from this place! No wonder they wanted you back."
"Yeah. They were certainly a lot happier about it than I was." This time Jack did kick at the straw, then swore loudly when it yet again failed to do any good. He considered kicking the wall instead, but didn't really feel angry enough to risk breaking any bones. Not quite yet.
"Language, friend. I warned you of that once before." Barlowe's voice carried a sharp reprimand. "This may be an unpleasant place, but that's no reason not to be polite. And there are ladies present. A lady, at least."
"Then she has my apologies, if she can hear me." Not really considering his damns and hells to be actual swearing, Jack was glad that he hadn't said anything stronger. There were curses enough in his vocabulary to make Barlowe's delicate eighteenth century sensibilities self-combust. "Though surely if she's a pirate as well, she must have heard a lot worse in her time."
"Not from me." Barlowe sounded testy. Jack grinned. A would-be gentleman, it seemed, and apparently carrying a torch for his unseen female fellow prisoner.
"Does this Belle of the Bastille have a name?"
"Anne." Barlowe spoke it like poetry, with a relish that would have benefited from more syllables, or a surname at the very least. "And belle is right. She's French, and the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes upon. She's never looked at a man, they say, but I'm not one to be discouraged. She won't want to sail the seas, fighting the enemy, forever."
"I guess not." Jack couldn't help thinking that sailing the seas and fighting any kind of enemy forever would be better than giving in to the rather lacking charms of the lovelorn Barlowe, but he smiled to himself and gave the other man the benefit of the doubt. Just because he sounded dry and reactionary was no reason to assume that there wasn't more about him. "This Anne. She wouldn't have a thing for fine dresses by any chance? Impractical, but somehow perfect? And knives. Big knives."
"You know her?" There was an edge to Barlowe's voice now, as if he expected competition. "She wears the finest dresses, although I can never tell how she manage to fight in them. Her natural grace, perhaps."
"Sheer stubbornness more like." Jack kept his voice low, so that his fellow prisoner couldn't hear his sarcasm.
"She fights with knives, or with short swords. Several at once, more often than not." Again there was that obvious relish in Barlowe's voice, as though he were reading Shakespeare, rather than describing the woman of his dreams in somewhat workmanlike phrases. "You really do know her?"
"I did know her. Once." So Anne was in this prison, and possibly not far away. Only just out of earshot perhaps. A thought struck him then, and he hauled himself back up to peer out of the bars. Barlowe was no longer visible at the window, but it made them feel closer together, when Jack could at least see the other man's cell. "Do you know of a ship named the Dragon?"
"The Dragon?" There was an unmistakable frown in Barlowe's words. "She went down... eight years ago now, it must be. Sunk by a merchant ship, and lost with all hands. Shame really. I heard that she was the best ship of her day. Outgunned in the end, though. They all are eventually."
"Lost?" Slowly Jack lowered himself back down to the ground. "You're sure? The whole crew?"
"Every man of them. Bad business, but in a way I should be thankful for it. I wouldn't be alive today, if things hadn't happened the way they did." There was a long pause, and Jack waited impatiently for the other man to speak again. "I was set to hang that day, but I got a reprieve from the Governor himself. He was that glad to have finally been rid of the Dragon. Lucky I made myself scarce, though, as I doubt his good temper lasted long once the full story got out."
"Full story?" Jack was beginning to feel like a bad, listless echo, but he couldn't help it. Josiah - drowned eight years ago, when they had been talking only a short while before. And Jack had promised him so much, without ever delivering. He left hearts and souls scattered throughout time and space without a care, but he felt bad now for doing the same thing to Josiah. It made his conscience stir, in a way that it hadn't done in years.
"Yes. The crew had mutinied. They wanted to go after a cargo that the captain didn't believe they could take, so they threw him and a few others overboard, and went off anyway. He was right of course - they were sunk, as I said. Every man of them, and a fair few that weren't hardly that yet. Bad business, but like I said, it saved my life." He laughed briefly. "I'm almost sorry I wasn't around to see what happened when the Governor heard that he was only rid of the crew and the ship, and not of the captain. Must have been fire and brimstone at the mansion that day."
"Mutiny?" Again Jack was playing the part of an echo. This time, however, he didn't seem to mind. "Mutiny? Then Josiah didn't go down with the ship? He's alive?"
"Josiah? Captain Day, you mean. He's alive, yes, for what it's worth. Alive until Tuesday, anyway. I'm losing track of what day is what in here, but it can't be very far away. You don't happen to know the day today, do you? And if it's Monday or Tuesday... well, just tell me that you don't know."
"I don't know. Haven't got a clue." Jack was grinning suddenly, with no obvious reason for it. "Josiah's in this prison? Josiah and Anne? Both of them?"
"They're here, certainly. Some cells down, I should think, as I'm not entirely sure if they can hear me. I wanted to try to make Anne feel a little better about her imprisonment - perhaps with a poem or two - but I couldn't make my words reach her."
"That's... a shame." Jack didn't doubt for a moment that Anne would have done her best not to hear the poor fellow's attempts to romance her. She might be fifteen years older now than when he himself had known her, but he didn't imagine that she would have changed all that much. "Maybe my voice is louder than yours?"
"That's why I keep warning you about your language. But it's not a good idea to shout too loudly, friend. The guards don't like us to talk to each other."
"I'll take the chance." Hauling himself up once again, so that his head was pressed against the iron bars of the window, Jack shouted as loudly as he could. "Joe? Anne? Josiah! It's Jack Harkness. You there?"
"Ssh! Quiet, man, quiet!" Barlowe sounded horror-struck. "Do you want the entire regiment roused?"
"They have better things to do than worry about us." Jack could feel his grip beginning to fail, but he clung on, and shouted so loudly that he felt the bars vibrate with the sound of his voice. "Josiah! Where are you!"
"Great heaven, man, keep your voice down!" Barlowe still sounded terrified. "Do you want us all flogged?"
"No, not especially." Jack lowered himself back down to the ground, muttering sulky imprecations at the universe. It wasn't fair to throw the death of a friend at him one moment, resurrect him the next, and then place him far out of earshot. That just wasn't playing the game. He sat down on the straw-covered floor, and stared morosely at the far wall. Brilliant. He was rapidly coming to hate the Caribbean. Hardly an hour back here, and he was already locked up, likely intended to hang, and the only person who seemed to offer any chance of help in the escape department was locked up as well. They couldn't even plot their breakout together - or at least not without every soldier for miles around hearing them, which rather defeated the object. He drew his knees up to his chest, rested his handcuffed wrists on top of them, and stared speculatively at the chain. There had to be something that he could do. Escapes were something of a speciality of his - he had escaped from prisons on worlds and spaceships spread far throughout the universe. That said rather a lot about his unfortunate tendency to get himself locked up in the first place, he supposed, but c'est la vie and all that. In the meantime all he cared about was getting out of this cell, in this prison, in this infuriating blasted seaside town. Whoever said the Caribbean was meant to be fun?
"Have you known them long?" It was Barlowe again, obviously bored and anxious to make conversation with somebody. Jack wasn't sure how to answer that. Technically he had known them for fifteen years. Literally he had known them for a handful of hours. He shook his head slowly.
"Not really. We fought alongside each other once. Do you know them well?"
"I've known them for some years." Barlowe had a hint of pride in his voice now, as though he enjoyed the idea of being the one better acquainted with the duo. "After they lost the Dragon, I helped them to find a replacement for her, and then later, when the Governor became rather too eager to see my neck stretched, Captain Day invited me to join his crew. I'm not really a sailing man, but I am something of a surgeon. I like to think that I have my uses aboard the ship."
"A surgeon?" Jack did not know Barlowe well, but what he did know didn't leave him overwhelmed with confidence in the other man's likely medical skills. Quite the opposite. "Do they need you often?"
"I've had to extract a few teeth." Barlowe sounded mildly disgruntled. Clearly he would prefer the challenge of a full scale cannon battle, just to prove his mettle as a physician. "You said that you had fought alongside the captain. Before the loss of the Dragon, I take it, since you didn't seem to know that she had gone down?"
"Yeah." Jack would miss the ship, he realised - Josiah had been so proud of her, with her fabled speed and beautiful, sleek shape. It would have been nice to spend a few days sailing on her, whilst his own ship fixed itself. "Yeah, it was back when he had the Dragon. A long time ago now, I guess." He almost added: He probably doesn't even remember me, but didn't. The Harkness ego was just a little too big to admit to that possibility. He grinned suddenly. "Does Josiah... have anybody? Somebody he goes to see when you've put to shore?"
"A woman you mean?" Barlowe's assumption was predictable, but on his own in his cell, Jack merely smiled. "No, he doesn't have a woman, at least as far as I'm aware. There are rumours that he and Anne perhaps..." This idea was obviously distasteful to him. "But I don't think so. They don't behave as lovers." There was a long pause. "You're a gentleman to phrase the question that way, friend, but I suppose I can guess why you're asking. If you think that you might have some chance yourself with Anne, though, then you're wrong. She's not interested."
"I wouldn't try to come between the two of you." Jack swallowed a grin, in case, unchecked, it might show itself in his voice. The poor sap - even the mention of Anne's name seemed to make his voice go all shaky. Jack could understand it more or less; when he had known her she had been as beautiful a woman as he could have hoped to meet, and with the character to match. Fifteen years was unlikely to have changed that, especially since she seemed to have been leading an active life. The mental image of Anne and Josiah spending all those years buckling their swashes on the high seas was attractive to say the least, and Jack leaned back against the wall, staring into the middle distance to ponder the idea for a little longer. Barlowe didn't seem to like the silence, and Jack heard him moving around, coming closer to the wall that separated them.
"Did you really not know what day it is?" he asked after a moment. Jack smiled faintly. Poor Barlowe. The idea of his upcoming date with the hangman clearly did not sit well with him. That was fair enough - waiting for an execution was never easy. When there was no immediate escape plan it could become a bleak prospect indeed.
"I don't have a clue," he admitted, although he couldn't be bothered to come up with an excuse as to why that should be. "It's 1750. Beyond that, I'm in the dark. Feels summery, though."
"Whatever you've been drinking, I think I should like some the night before the executioners come." Barlowe sighed. "I've lived my whole life on the wrong side of the law. I was told when I was a boy of seven that it would all end for me on the gallows, but now that that day is finally approaching, I'm finding it a good deal harder to face than I thought I would. And what of you, friend? Jack, you said that your name was, didn't you. How does death look to you, Jack?"
"Sulking that it's missed me so often, probably." Jack didn't especially want to talk about hangings. Escapes made a much better topic of conversation. "Don't worry, Barlowe. Nobody's going to hang us. Not this week, anyhow."
"I'd like to know how they could fail to do so. I'm in a prison that no man could easily escape from, surrounded by armed guards who are under strict orders to watch us all closely. The Governor isn't going to let Captain Josiah Day escape, and all those who were captured alongside him are nearly as valuable. You have a confidence about you, Jack, but I'm afraid it's misplaced."
"Confidence is never misplaced." Jack jumped to his feet, suddenly feeling more cheerful again. "Barlowe, you and I... say, do you have a first name?"
"Timothy." Barlowe sounded as though he was frowning. "You and I what, Jack?"
"You and I, Tim, are going to get the hell out of here, get Josiah and Anne out of here, and then find a ship and get as far away from this godforsaken place as we possibly can. You game?"
"Game?" The other man sounded confused. "I don't... How are we going to get out of here?"
"Blind luck usually does the trick." There was a sudden rattling from the direction of the door, and Jack winced. On the other hand, of course, it could be that this was Tuesday, and that his blind luck was back at the ship getting itself repaired alongside the time drive. "Am I imagining it, or do we have guests?"
"There's somebody outside my door as well." Barlowe's voice showed a faint tremor, that he was doing well to disguise. "Can it be Tuesday already? It's early morning, though, not even nearly sundown. I had hoped for longer... Perhaps a chance to try to remember something from the Scriptures."
"Remember quickly. You'd be surprised what comes back to you when you're on the way to an execution." The cell door swung open, and Jack found himself looking at the business end of two muskets. "Hi. Captain Jack Harkness, Royal Navy. You'll have to excuse the accent, I'm undercover."
"Out." One of the new arrivals gestured with his musket, and Jack scowled. Apparently they were in a hurry to hang him. Since he was in no particular hurry himself, there was clearly a conflict of interest here. All the same, getting shot would get him to his death a damn sight quicker than walking leisurely out of the cell would, so he dismissed all thought of rebellion and strolled out into the corridor. Barlowe was also being hustled out of his cell, and Jack got his first clear view of his fellow prisoner. Timothy Barlowe looked to be about forty, of average size and build, and with the obvious weather-beaten appearance of a man who had lived most of his life at the mercy of the elements. He looked capable enough, but his clothes were more those of a man of books than a man of action, and his walk was not the rolling gait of a sailor. If he really had been accepted as a member of Josiah's crew, he did not seem to have adapted well to the life.
"Jack?" He smiled rather shakily, obviously glad for a friendly face. "I feel bad for making your acquaintance only on the day when we leave this life, but perhaps there'll be time in the next world for us to become proper friends."
"You're not being hanged today." The nearest guard turned Barlowe around, and pointed him towards the door leading back to the open air. "You've been summoned for an audience."
"With the Governor?" Inwardly Jack winced. Oh well - now was the time to find out just how memorable a thorn he had been in His Lordship's side. He couldn't help thinking that the reunion would consist largely of swearing, accusations of witchcraft, and a swift dispatch courtesy of the nearest pistol, but then he hadn't had the luxury of fifteen years in which to forget Lord Charles Montgomery. Lord Charles would have seen a lot of prisoners come and go in the past decade and a half, and every face could help to dilute the memory of those that had come before it. Luck could be an obliging soul at times, at least when she was in one of her better moods.
"Barlowe!" The shout pre-empted any chance of the guards to answer Jack's question; if indeed any of them had been planning to answer it. A familiar shout. The sort of shout that came from a known and very welcome voice. "Barlowe, are you well?"
"Captain!" Barlowe sounded delighted. Josiah Day had always brought out the best in his men, remembered Jack. His presence had seemed to give them extra strength and courage in the face of adversity. "I'm in good enough health, yes. And Anne, my dear. Prison doesn't seem to have marked you too badly."
"We've been here barely a day and a half." Anne's voice was as familiar as Josiah's, and as cutting as Jack might expect. He grinned to himself. She wasn't looking at him, standing with his back to her. Neither was Josiah. They hadn't noticed him, and certainly had no way of recognising him from behind. As the guards, losing patience at this merry little reunion, began to hurry the prisoners along, Jack turned to meet his two former associates. He was good at choosing the moment - at picking the right time for the best possible effect. This way he caught them both off guard at exactly the same moment, and by the look of things infuriated the guards still further.
"Hi." It was a hopelessly anachronistic greeting in 1750, though the waggle of his fingers that accompanied it gave some indication of what he meant. "So, er... how are you both?"
"I don't..." Josiah was gaping at him - an older, more weathered Josiah, and quite possibly an even more attractive one than before. His sun-bleached hair was turning white in patches, his skin was an even darker brown, and the grey silk shirt that he wore so fetchingly loose, matched his eyes quite perfectly. "Jack!"
"Hi," said Jack again, not entirely sure why he couldn't think of anything more scintillating. "You look... well."
"Well? I--" Josiah was still gaping. "Jack, I... You... I thought..." He shook his head for a moment, then advanced suddenly on the other man, stopping barely a foot away. He was clearly oblivious of the increasingly annoyed guards, which served to annoy them still further. "You haven't changed. You still look... Not a day... I didn't know what to think, Jack. Dead, alive, gone away... I didn't... I waited. I waited for months, but..."
"Yeah. Slight, er... I kinda got..." Jack gestured vaguely in the air with one hand, mimicking the actions of his ship when it had spun out of control and crashed down onto the beach. "I got zapped. Blasted. Blown up. Well, blown up quite a bit, actually, as it turned out. Sorta... there was a time warp, and... and we're going to get shot any minute if we don't go where the guards are trying to take us." He smiled, rather uncertain all of a sudden. "I'm sorry. I don't usually... I thought you were dead."
"You're all going to be dead if you don't start moving." A guard gave him a hefty push, and Jack obeyed the instruction without thinking. Josiah had also been pushed onward, and they went up the stairs together. Barlowe was looking confused, Anne was frowning, and the soldiers all looked ready to explode. Not that Jack gave a damn for what anybody else thought.
"You thought that I was dead!" Josiah sounded stunned. "What would make you think that? It was I who thought that you were dead. There was only one other reason I could think of, as to why you didn't return to me that day, and it wasn't one that I greatly wished to contemplate. Not after... Well. You know."
"Yeah." Jack could see that the last thing Josiah wanted was to be open about their relationship in front of other people, and he respected that, at least up to a point. "Sorry. I would never have... I mean, I was really looking forward to... really looking forward to... er... getting better acquainted. I just... anyway, that's not what I mean. Back there, in the cell. Your friend Barlowe told me that the Dragon had gone down with all hands, and I thought you were dead. I realised I felt really bad about never having got to... you know." He frowned. It wasn't easy, having to avoid being direct, especially when you were Captain Jack Harkness, and direct was your middle name. Or one of your middle names, anyway. The others were no less flagrant. "I'm sorry. It's complicated, and really hard to explain. Or at least it is here, like this, now. It has to do with where I'm from, and who I am, and... and lots of things. I'm just glad that you're okay."
"I am well enough, at least for the time being. You know that I'm to hang?"
"I rather think we all are. I think it's some kind of national sport, actually. Either Charlie is trying to beat the record for most people hung in a single term of office, or the local people are going for some kind of community award on law and order. Your fault, as it happens. That I got to be a part of it all, I mean."
"It is?" Josiah looked confused. Jack shrugged.
"Your clothes." He gestured to his own attire. "I got these from you, remember? No, you probably don't. Long time ago - for you, anyway. I've been arrested twice now because your expensive clothes got certain soldiers' alarm bells ringing. And speaking of which, what the hell is this scarf around my neck? Because that's not helping, either."
"Scarf?" Josiah frowned, as though only just seeing it. "Good heavens, man. You're still wearing that!"
"I can't get the damn thing off!" Jack heard Barlowe's sharp intake of breath, and knew that he was supposed to apologise to Anne for his language. Anne, he was fairly sure, would be insulted by the attempt, so he didn't bother. "It used to belong to Charlie's wife, you know. Last time I got dragged up in front of him, there I was trying to look innocent, and all the time I'm wearing the stolen silk scarf of the wife of the Governor Of Jamaica. Do you have any idea how incriminating that can be?"
"My apologies, Jack." Josiah was smirking. "I must have tied it rather better than I thought. Still... fifteen years! It's only a good sailor's knot. You probably tightened it by trying to remove it the wrong way."
"Then it was you who put it on me."
"I'm afraid so. I think it was that night when we got drunk at the Shark's Tooth. I found it in the pocket of my coat, and I seem to remember thinking that it would suit you. Of course I was quite wrong as it turned out. I should have given you the blue one instead. But by then I had tied it on, and I couldn't seem to undo it. Drunk of course. Knots become so much more complicated at times like that. I asked Anne to help, but..." He shrugged. "There was some reason why she wouldn't. Something to do with forfeits, no doubt. Truth be told, I remember very little about that night. But then it was fifteen years ago."
"Feels like yesterday." Jack smiled happily. "Mind you, from what I remember it was the sort of evening to stick in the mind. It's not often even I manage to wake up in bed with two men, two women and a parrot." He winced. "While a man-eating alien beast is busy laying waste to the local fishing fleet."
"Nice though this reunion would appear to be..." Anne sounded sharp and distinctly annoyed. "Shouldn't we be thinking of other things? Captain Jack, it's good to see you again. Or it may be, depending on whether there are any monsters with you this time. But we should be talking of something else besides knots and parrots."
"Like escape?" Jack gestured around them, and raised his voice to an artificial level. "You want us to talk about escaping, when we're surrounded by soldiers who'd hear every word?" Anne shot him a lethal glare.
"You'd rather wait until we're locked up in cells again, and have no way of communicating?"
"You'd better not talk at all." One of the guards, by the look of him even closer to the end of his tether than his companions, steered the little party off the road and on up the slope that led to the Governor's residence. "I was told to bring Captain Day up to the house, and those of his associates that seemed most senior. As long as Captain Day survives to reach the house, I'm prepared to lose the rest of you. So be quiet, or I'll have you shot one at a time."
"We'll do as you ask." Josiah sounded insulted by the demand, but his voice carried an authority that guaranteed his companions would follow his lead. Jack might have objected, but silence was admittedly better than death. He ceased talking, and wandered along beside Josiah. It seemed odd seeing the other man looking fifteen years older, when they had been apart for just a few hours, but he supposed that it must seem even more strange to Josiah. He had not seen Jack for years, and now was thrown suddenly back together with him again, to find him un-aged, unchanged, and still speaking in terms that he couldn't understand. If they got the chance to be alone together, Jack wondered about giving him a proper explanation. He deserved it, all things considered. The question was, how to couch it all in terms that the pirate captain would be able to understand, without just taking Jack for a madman and choosing to give him a wide berth.
They reached the Governor's residence without further incident, and were ushered in through a side door. As far as Jack could see, the place hadn't changed much in the years since his last visit - the same ornaments seemed to be standing in all the same places. He expected to be taken to the same room as before - the grandiose and solemn inner sanctum of Lord Charles Montgomery - but instead they were led down a long, dark corridor to what seemed to be some kind of parlour. Heavy lace curtains hung at the small windows, and in place of the dark wooden panelling of the Governor's office, there were whitewashed walls and bright little paintings. It looked like the refuge of a wife who didn't care much for her husband's taste in decoration, though Jack didn't think much of hers either. The chairs bore antimacassars that were far too fussy; the paintings were all of hopelessly idealised rural scenes; a dresser groaned with the weight of a truly hideous collection of porcelain figurines. Definitely not a room designed by Lord Charles. Definitely not a room designed by anybody with half an ounce of sense, either, as far as Jack could see. There was a woman at the far end of the room, dressed in rather a severe style, and clutching a book of Shakespeare's sonnets with the air of a person who had thought hard about how she would most like to be found by her guests. She even contrived to look surprised by their arrival, as though caught out whilst going about her usual business. Given the long gap between the knock on the door and her summons to enter, any surprise was either extremely false or the mark of a hopeless idiot. The lead guard saluted her stiffly.
"The prisoners, my lady."
"Thankyou, Hallows." She laid down her little book of sonnets and came closer, revealing the face of a woman of about forty, pretty, pale and well cared for. She knew exactly who Josiah was, and directed her words to him. "My name is Lady Caroline Montgomery. You're Captain Day."
"Ma'am." Josiah was not a man to be rude, whether or not he had the same low opinion of Lady Caroline as he did of her brutal husband. She smiled at him, distracted.
"You have no reason to look fondly upon me, Captain Day. I wasn't the one who sentenced you and your men to hang, but I think we can assume that I have no objections to my husband's decisions and attitudes."
"You did marry him," observed Josiah. Lady Caroline nodded.
"I did indeed. And willingly. This is no marriage of convenience. If it were, I perhaps wouldn't care so much. You are here, Captain Day, because I care so much."
"I don't understand." Josiah looked around, as though expecting Lord Charles to pop up out of the furniture. "I thought that we were being brought here to see your husband?"
"Would that you could, Captain. In point of fact you were brought here because my husband has disappeared." She lowered her voice slightly, as though suspecting that there might be people hiding somewhere in the building, anxious to overhear what was being said. "His Excellency the Governor enjoys fishing, as perhaps you know? Yesterday he went out for a voyage on a boat, to attempt some fishing in deeper waters, and he didn't come back. I received a message at first light this morning, telling me that my husband will be killed if I don't pay a ransom of ten thousand guineas." She drew in a deep breath. "It's not the money. I could probably raise the amount. If I did, though, I have no guarantee that I would get my husband back, and I know that he would be furious with me for paying a ransom anyway. I can't send the soldiers from the garrison, as I can't allow this news to be widely known. It would soon get out, if I was to send out even one of our ships - and besides, the soldiers don't know the seas and the coast the way that you do. If my husband is to come back alive, Captain Day, you're the man to make it happen. I'll pay you a thousand guineas if you'll do it - and you'll get your freedom as well. You and your crew, back on your ship and out at sea. None of you need hang, at least this time. It's the best that I can offer you, and I hope that you'll think about it at least."
"I'm flattered, Lady Caroline." Josiah had one eyebrow raised, and seemed to be faintly amused. "To be considered for such a task as this is quite an honour... if something of a surprise. You must know that I despise your husband? I mean no offence, of course, but he has hanged a good many of my friends, and a good many more innocents that he falsely accused."
"I know that my husband's zeal for justice has made him few friends amongst certain circles." Lady Caroline spoke with the same clipped courtesy as Josiah. "But he is my husband, and I won't allow him to die when I have a chance of preventing it. I am offering you money and your freedom, Captain Day. I am offering you the chance to save the lives of the members of your crew. These people with you, what have they to say?"
"Very little." Josiah glanced around at his companions. "My ship's surgeon has been sentenced to death more than once by your husband, and the whole of Jamaica knows how Anne feels about him. Jack here isn't a member of my crew, and I'm not altogether sure why he's been brought along with us, but I feel sure that I do know what he thinks of Lord Charles. We seem an odd group of people to charge with this task, my lady. And even if we agree to it, what's to stop us from merely setting sail and ignoring your husband's plight altogether?"
"Simply put, Captain Day, if you agree to the deal then you'll be taking some of my men along with you. They will help you to stay focused upon the task at hand." She smiled sweetly. "As for your companions here, I asked that your more senior crew members be brought along so that they could assist you in coming to your decision. A pistol at the head of a close friend or colleague is a fine encouragement at a pivotal moment, I'm sure you'll agree. If this man is not a member of your crew, perhaps we could begin with him?"
"Or perhaps not." Jack stepped neatly out of the way of the pistol being raised towards his head. "I'm sorry Josiah. I was calling your name when Tim told me you were in the prison too. I guess they heard and thought I was one of your men."
"There's no need for apologies, Jack. Not from you." Josiah only spared him a brief glance, but it was a meaningful one. "If I agree to this, Lady Caroline, how am I to know that your husband will honour your word? As soon as we bring him back here, he could have us arrested whatever you've promised."
"He won't." Lady Caroline's stare was direct, and apparently honest. "You'll have your freedom, Captain Day - as long as you bring him back. If you fail..." She gestured vaguely with one hand, and Jack found that there was once again a pistol pointing at his head. He tried glaring at it, but it didn't seem to be at all intimidated. "Your freedom is intricately tied to that of my husband. If he doesn't come home, neither do you. If you see what I mean."
"I understand completely, Lady Caroline." Josiah inclined his head in a polite nod. "And I accept. Jack?"
"I'm with you." It was better than prison, and he still had three days to kill before his ship was repaired. Spending a little time with Josiah was definitely a good idea. The pirate captain smiled.
"I had hoped that you would say that. It'll be good to have you back aboard. And possibly have a few of my questions answered?"
"You can always ask." Jack flashed him a killer grin, the kind that had been known to make lesser beings faint, and came loaded with enough subtext to make the tips of Josiah's ears turn pink. "This could be fun. A nice sea voyage, no alien monsters trying to eat us this time. Cool."
"Cool?" Lady Caroline was frowning at him, so he offered her a smile as well.
"Cool. Nice. Fun. You know."
"Jack, in my experience nobody in these parts ever really knows what you mean." Josiah spoke like a man anxious to provide a little damage limitation, but Lady Caroline didn't seem annoyed. Perhaps she was as susceptible to the Jack Harkness smile as most people seemed to be; or possibly she was just so worried about her husband that she wasn't really paying attention. Jack shot Josiah a withering glare.
"I make perfect sense. Almost all the time."
"Who are you?" Lady Caroline was still frowning at him. "And why is that scarf around your neck so familiar?"
"Jack is a colleague. His assistance will be invaluable." Josiah seemed to think that he had spoken up just a little too quickly for propriety's sake, and coughed faintly. "He's a... very talented navigator."
"Then I won't have him shot." The Governor's wife was still staring at the scarf. "I fancy that I had something much like that myself once. A number of them, though it must be nearly twenty years ago now. They were a wedding present from my sister..."
"I think I picked this up in Tahiti." Jack's smile had become faintly awkward, but fortunately the guards, who had heard all about the scarf and where it had been stolen from on the journey up from the gaol, didn't feel that it was their place to say anything. Lady Caroline nodded vaguely.
"Mine went missing. I should think I wore it out of doors on rather too windy a day, and it wound up being used by some fisherman to fix his nets. Captain Day?"
"Ma'am?" Masking his relief, Josiah snapped to a gallant attention.
"You'll put to sea today. I don't expect it to be a long voyage, so there will be no need for long planning, or for the loading of unwieldy cargoes. On my husband's desk is the chart that shows where his fishing expedition was due to take place. One of his own men accompanied him there, and returned safe and sound, so we do at least know that he met with the fishing boat. The ransom note was delivered to the parson, by a man that he didn't recognise, so I can't tell you where he might have come from. All that I can tell you is where my husband was."
"That's something." Josiah offered her a smile that was intended to be encouraging, even though he had no real care for her or for her worries. "My crew...?"
"You need take only a skeleton crew. As I said, it's not to be a long voyage, and I want to be sure that I give you extra reason to return. You might succeed in killing the men that I'm sending along with you, so I intend to be doubly certain of our accord. You have two men with you here, I shall send you with five of my own." Anne positively bristled, and Lady Caroline seemed to notice. "The... lady... is a full member of the crew?"
"She is, yes." Josiah didn't look at Anne, trying to be as breezy and offhand as he could manage. Their hostess nodded slowly, though clearly with a measure of disapproval.
"Then including yourself, Captain Day, you should have a crew of ten. I think that that will be enough to sail a ship. Your vessel is not a large one."
"Ten, your ladyship?" Josiah had the look of a man who had already guessed who the tenth member of the crew would be, and was hoping against hope that he was wrong. "I count only nine..."
"Do you think that I would allow you to search for my husband without me? If he is hurt, or..." She crossed herself. "Or killed... I should be there."
"Lady Caroline, if the Governor has been taken by people who want a ransom, you could be delivering yourself into their hands too. They could demand twice the price, and I've no doubt that you have relatives back in England who could pay any amount asked. Imagine being held prisoner for the length of time it would take such a demand to reach them? You could be killed or injured yourself; and besides, you call yourself the tenth member of the crew, but... your ladyship, you can't expect to assist us in any great way."
"I'm sure I could be of use. I could... steer, perhaps? You have one woman on your crew, and if she can assist you, then I can as well. Besides, Captain Day, you'll not be sailing without me. And if you don't sail, you hang." She gestured to one of the guards, and Jack found a pistol once again pointing at his head. "And if you hang, you do it only after watching your friends die first."
"Point taken." Josiah pulled Jack out of the line of fire. "Very well. We'll be glad to have you aboard." He suppressed a sigh, then turned towards the windows and stared out at the sky. "The weather should hold, for a day or two. At this time of the year, and with the weather that we've had lately, there shouldn't be any danger of storms. Very well. We sail in two hours. Barlowe?"
"Captain?" Having watched and listened to everything with a palpable sense of mounting dread, Barlowe leaped to clumsy attention now.
"Check the stores. Make sure that we've provisions enough for ten for one week. I don't intend to be that long about this, but we'd best be certain. Anne, make sure that the ship is seaworthy. She took a little damage during our capture, and I haven't set eyes on her in a day and a half. At the hands of some soldiers, that's enough for lasting harm. Or even wilful sabotage. Jack and I will look at this chart of the Governor's, and consider our options. And we'll need these chains removed. It's Hallows, isn't it?" This last was directed to the guard that Lady Caroline had addressed by name earlier. The soldier nodded mechanically, responding automatically to the authority in Josiah's voice. "Good. You have a key?"
"Y-yes." Hallows looked to Lady Caroline for permission, and she nodded her head without real interest.
"Jolly good. Hurry along, man. We have a great deal to do if we're to save the Governor."
"I... Yes, captain." Hallows did not look happy, but he produced a key and removed the handcuffs. Josiah nodded his thanks.
"Fine. Jack, you know where the Governor's office is. Fetch this chart."
"Sure." Jack was halfway to the door when Josiah raised his voice slightly.
"And Jack?"
"Yeah?"
"Just the chart." There was a meaningful note in the pirate captain's voice. Jack would have glared, had anybody else dared suggest that he might have let his light fingers roam - especially since the suggestion came from someone who was a known thief himself, and knew little at all about Jack. Instead he just grinned, and vanished through the door. Josiah nodded thoughtfully.
"I think that's everything. Gentlemen, Anne, Lady Caroline - we have a ship to board. Shall we go?" He gestured towards the door through which Jack had just exited, and Lady Caroline nodded her greying head.
"I think we shall. I look forward to sailing with you, Captain Day."
"Indeed." Josiah clearly did not at all look forward to sailing with her. "We shall see, Lady Caroline. But by this time tomorrow, you may well regret ever leaving the shore."
"I doubt it." For all her fashionable aristocratic delicacy, she looked determined now. Josiah merely raised an eyebrow at her retreating back.
"Yes." He didn't sound convinced. "Well as I said, we shall see." He sighed, and dropped his voice to a whisper that only Anne could hear. "And soon enough, no doubt."